


tell me every day i get to wake up to that smile

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Loosely Follows Canon, M/M, Relationship Study, Sleepy Cuddles, Snapshots, Timeline Fic, prompto argentum's freckles, until altissia where everything goes to shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: all the times noctis wakes up to prompto, and vice versa.





	tell me every day i get to wake up to that smile

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes it's me again here's some more soft promptis
> 
> this started as a fic with the theme "waking up" but because it's noctis, these boys just end up going back to sleep which is making _me_ sleepy, so........
> 
> title from "i wouldn't mind" by he is we
> 
> so uh, i'd suggest you finish the game or at least reach the clusterfuck that is altissia, because this fic sort of follows canon up to a certain point where i just decided, fuck it, fuck canon, i want these kids to be happy, dammit, watch me flub the details to make it all better, bye

Something is prodding at his cheek, and it’s annoying the heck out of him. Noctis swats at the persistent finger intruding his personal space, shifting his face into the crook of his elbow.

“Noooooct, wakey wakey!”

“Nnnngh,” he groans. He flops his arm through the air next to his desk, hoping it might hit Prompto and make his friend leave him alone.

“C’mon, buddy, class was dismissed ten minutes ago. Don’t you wanna go home where you can sleep without getting a kink in your neck?”

He does have a point. Unfortunately. Noctis sighs heavily, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The classroom is empty save for them. Rain clouds outside make the room darker than it is, and the temptation to sink back into the pull of sleep is high. He glances back at Prompto, who is sitting in the seat in front of him, face turned towards him. The smile on his face is brighter than any ray of sunshine that would have parted the grey skies.

Noctis is well aware that he shouldn’t and will never be a poet, but something about this boy before him makes him want to spout things even Gladio and his impressive collection of romance novels can’t stomach.

“Ready to go?” Prompto asks, tilting his head. A strand of his hair falls over his eyes, but he makes no move to push it away.

Before he can think about it, Noctis is reaching out, fingers brushing against Prompto’s face as he tucks the blond hair behind his ears. He watches with a quiet wonder as a blush spreads across Prompto’s face like a sunset.

“N-Noct?”

Withdrawing his hand, Noctis gives his friend a small smile. “Let’s go home, Prompto.”

 

 

 

 

He’s just finished the last of the assigned questions when a soft snore distracts him. Noctis glances across the table to find Prompto with his head down on his notebooks, mouth open and drooling slightly. His fingers are still clenched around his pencil.

Putting his own pencil down, Noctis reaches over and pinches Prompto’s nose closed. The other boy doesn’t react for a second, but then he snorts, brows creasing and mouth twitching as he tries to suck in air. Blue eyes blink open in confusion.

“Noct?” His voice is all nasally from where Noctis is still holding his nose. “What the hell, man?”

Noctis lets go of his friend’s nose, laughing at the offended expression Prompto is sporting. “Did you even finish the assignment?”

Prompto frowns down at his worksheet. There’s a wet stain from where he was drooling on it before. “Ugh, numbers put me to sleep.”

“Same.”

“ _ Everything _ puts you to sleep, bro.” 

“You got me there.”

They go back to their homework. Noctis scribbles his last answer, stifling a yawn. He props his head in his hands and watches Prompto frown sternly at his notes, as if disappointed that his chicken scratch isn’t providing him with the correct answers. Prompto’s eyes are narrowed as he squints, probably itchy from his impromptu nap with his contacts still in. Noctis is imagining how his friend would look with glasses (since he’s been adamant about Noctis never witnessing his ‘disgraceful state’ or whatever, even though Noctis continues to remind him of their  _ real  _ first meeting and—this part Noctis keeps to himself—if he was being honest, there’s nothing Prompto could do that would make him a disgrace in Noctis’ eyes) when Prompto looks up.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes, I can’t read mi—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like—like that, I don’t know!” Prompto waves his arm, face flushing. 

Noctis doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, but now he feels like blushing, too, and he doesn’t know why. He chucks his notebook at Prompto. “Here. I’m going to go take a nap.”

“Wha—You’re just going to abandon me? What kind of best friend are you?”

“The kind of best friend that’s done with math homework forever.” Noctis flops onto the couch behind him and tosses an arm over his eyes. “Wake me when you’re done. We’ve got some intense gaming to do.”

“You’re on, Noct!”

 

 

 

 

Noctis startles awake, chest tight and breaths coming too short, too fast, his hands gripping his comforter but it’s too dark and he’s still being chased by the ghost of a monster ten times his height and intent on killing him like it did his nanny, all those years ago. 

He can’t breathe.

The door suddenly creaks open, and light from the hallway floods in. Noctis flinches back. Gladio would be disappointed that he didn’t even attempt to protect himself. But there’s a familiar figure standing in the open doorway, peering in worriedly.

“Noct? Uh, I heard—I don’t know, I just wanted to check if you’re... okay.”

“Prompto,” Noctis says, or he tries to, except all that comes out is a strangled gasp. He tries to force himself to calm down. It’s not really working.

“Oh, shit, um.” Prompto makes to step in, but pauses. “Can I, uh, is it okay if I come in...?”

Noctis can’t answer. He nods, a little too frantically but it’s the middle of the night and he still can’t breathe and he’s shivering and he just wants. A familiar touch. Warmth. To prove he’s real.

A weight sinks into the bed next to him. A pair of hands come to rest on his shoulders, hesitant at first, then pressing down firmly. “Noct—Noctis,” Prompto says, voice soft and not at all the careless loud Noctis is used to. “It’s okay. It’s just a nightmare.” When Noctis’ shaking doesn’t subside, Prompto says, slower now, “You’re here. You’re real. You’re alive, Noct. You’re going to be fine.”

It takes a while, but with Prompto’s hands grounding him, Noctis’ heart rate somehow slows to a normal pace again. He pulls away, and Prompto lets him. The room is quiet save for their breathing. Noctis swipes his hand across his eyes, thankful that Prompto doesn’t comment on it, even though he knows that Prompto was never that kind of person anyway.

“Thanks,” he whispers into the dark.

“Hey, no worries,” Prompto replies. He nudges Noctis gently. “We all get nightmares, yeah? Take your time going back to sleep. Sure convenient your brain picked the weekend to have a nightmare, yeah? You can sleep in as much as you want tomorrow.”

Despite his exhaustion, Noctis laughs. He flops back onto his bed. “You don’t have to go back to the couch,” he says, eyes already closing, “if you don’t want to.”

Prompto hums. “Your bed  _ is  _ much comfier.” A moment later, he reclines next to Noctis, close enough that their arms brush against each other when they move.

Satisfied and feeling strangely safe, Noctis lets himself drift off once more.

 

 

 

 

“Psst, Noct!”

Noctis keeps his eyes firmly closed. He’s currently in the middle of a very nice dream, where he’s still small, small enough to climb into his father’s lap and his father would allow it, small enough that he could visit Luna and she’d show him her favourite flowers in the gardens, small enough that his bones don’t ache when the smell of rain hovers in the air, small enough that he doesn’t understand what exactly being the Prince of Lucis meant and everything was okay— 

Something hits the back of his head and bounces off. Noctis jerks upwards.

“Oh, thank gods,” he hears whispered behind him, but before he can figure out why, he blinks up to find the teacher staring in his direction with a cross look on her face.

“Your Highness,” she says slowly, and Noctis bites back a groan because of all the classes to fall asleep in, he had to pick the one with a harpy for a teacher. “Care to read the next paragraph for us?”

“Uh,” he says intelligently. He glances down at his textbook, but he’s only made it as far as opening it before he nodded off. He has absolutely no idea where they are.

Something pokes him in the back. “Page seventy-four,” Prompto hisses at him.

Noctis mumbles his way through the paragraph, and while the teacher still looks like she wants to call him out on dozing off in her class, she thankfully moves on. He sits back down with a sigh of relief. Without turning, he reaches a hand behind his back. Barely a moment passes before his friend presses his hand against his open palm briefly, a wordless exchange of  _ thanks  _ and  _ no problem _ .

It’s not until later, when class is finally over and Noctis is halfway to dozing off again, that he remembers his dream. The bittersweet taste of nostalgia lingers on his tongue, but he swallows hard, because he’s just realized one thing that was missing in that dream—the one thing that would have completed the picture.

“Hey, Noct! Wanna hang out at the arcade before we go home?”

Noctis glances up at Prompto. That same freckled smile is as familiar as his messy bedhead in the mirror, so familiar he sometimes forgets it hasn’t always been around, so familiar it never occurs to him that it might not always be around. He stands, shouldering his bag, and faces Prompto.

“Yeah,” he says, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

 

 

 

His doorbell wouldn’t shut up. 

Noctis groans into his pillow. He considers playing dead but figures that would cause the kingdom to go into an uproar which will then result in the Crownsguard hunting him down and then he’ll not only have to deal with Ignis’ disappointed face but also his father’s, which is infinitely more terrifying. Sleep, even with this horrible pounding in his head, just isn’t worth it this time.

“I’m coming, holy Bahamut’s fishing rod, I’m coming,” Noctis mutters, stumbling down the hallway. His skin feels too hot and every step seems to make the vertigo worse. He kind of feels like he’s dying, actually, but he’s been there before and this is almost worse. At least there’s no blood this time.

He’s wondering why Ignis doesn’t just let himself in with his copy of the key when it occurs to him that Ignis specifically told him he wasn’t able to drop in today. But by then, he’s already pulling open the door to reveal—

“Prompto?”

“Hey, Noct!” A familiar freckled face grins up at him. “Wow, you look like shit!”

Noctis sags against the doorway. “I  _ feel _ like shit. What are you... How did you manage to get up here?”

Prompto shrugs. “They’ve seen me coming and going with you loads of times, and Iggy made me a special pass a while ago.”

“A special what?”

His friend doesn’t bother answering, instead shouldering his way in and steering Noctis towards the bedroom again. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed, you look like you’re about to fall over. I thought you were just skipping class again but I guess you really are sick, aren’t you?”

“Are you accusing me of lying?” 

“You’d do anything for extra sleeping time, Noct.”

Noctis allows Prompto to wrestle him back under the covers and take his temperature. He’ll deny it, but the strange flighty feeling rattling in his ribcage since he woke up fighting the urge to throw up has settled as soon as he realized that someone has arrived to take care of him. He hadn’t wanted to bother Ignis on the rare days he was willing to take off. He might have tried calling someone else, maybe even some of the on-duty ‘guards downstairs, but he wanted to appear like he can take care of himself for once. Stubborn pride or foolish confidence or something.

“I’m going to go make you soup, okay?” Prompto places a plastic bag on his nightstand. Noctis didn’t even notice the boy carrying it when he entered. “Here’s some water, and after we get some food into you, you should take this medicine.”

Noctis squints up at his friend. “When did you become so... Specs-like?”

Prompto bursts into laughter, and the sound instantly makes Noctis relax. “You mean responsible? I’ve been practically living on my own for a long time, Noct. I know how to nurse you back to health, at least.”

“What if I make you sick?”

“It’s okay, Noct, I never get sick.” Prompto shrugs. “I’m just that strong, I guess.”

“Wow, so manly,” Noctis drawls, but his voice cracks and breaks into a whine halfway through. He closes his eyes when Prompto’s cool hand rests on his forehead. 

“Go back to sleep,” Prompto says. There’s still a smile in his voice, but it’s softened into something gentler. “I’ll be back soon. Holler if you need anything, yeah?”

Noctis doesn’t answer, but only because he’s already sinking back into sleep, headache retreating just the slightest bit, knowing that someone will be there when he wakes.

 

 

 

 

The train is mostly empty when Prompto’s head drops onto his shoulder. Noctis remembers glancing down at the face squished against his shoulder, distracted by the way long lashes flutter slightly against freckled cheeks. The distant lamps flashing past the windows lull Noctis to a drowsy state. He doesn’t think too much of it when he rests his head on Prompto’s hair, fluffy enough to tickle his cheek, and closes his eyes.

They both startle awake when the train halts. A monotone voice announces the terminal stop. Noctis stares wide-eyed at his best friend, who does his best to stare back while blinking sleep from those blue eyes. 

“That’s... not good,” Prompto manages.

“You think?” 

Prompto sighs, ruffling his hair. The hair at the back of his head poofs up even after he drops his hands, and Noctis finds himself thinking _chocobo_ _butt_ before he forces himself to focus. “What do we do now? I think this is the last train.”

“Let’s see if we can find a map.”

The train station is brightly lit, but empty save for the two of them. It’s kind of eerie, actually, with the white lights shining onto sparkling gray tiles, and not a soul in sight. Noctis makes for the maps by the gates, but the attendant in the booth is gone, too. He scans the train routes on the map while Prompto hovers nervously behind him.

“Do you know where we are?”

Noctis sighs. “We missed our stop by seven stations. But it goes in a loop so... we’re not too far from where we need to go. Technically.”

“Is it within walking distance?”

Noctis sighs again. “I’m not allowed to walk the streets this late at night, Prompto. Even with a friend.”

“Oh.” Prompto tugs at his wristbands. He glances sideways at Noctis. “Should we... call Ignis...?”

“I guess.” Noctis frowns down at his phone. “He’s supposed to be off-duty tonight.”

Prompto winces. “Um. We can buy him a really nice... uh, dress shirt?”

Noctis groans, dragging out the sound. Prompto offers him a pat on the shoulder.

 

 

 

 

Noctis wakes to Prompto leaning over him, messy blond locks brushing his skin, face a little too close for comfort. Naturally, his half-asleep brain rings the alarm bells, and he tries to sit up. The resulting sound of their skulls knocking against each other rings loud throughout the room.

“Ow! What the heck, Noct, what was that for?” Prompto writhes on the futon next to his, clutching his head.

Noctis clutches his own forehead, whining quietly. “You’re the one being all creepy first thing in the morning!”

“Uh, hate to break it to ya, buddy, but it hasn’t been morning for a while now.”

“What?” Noctis lowers his hands, blinking at the sunlight streaming in through the blinds. The room is full of rolled up futons, the rest of the class long gone. From the level of brightness assaulting his eyes, it must be the afternoon. If Noctis remembers correctly, their itinerary mentioned visiting the museum a few blocks over, but breakfast at the inn was supposed to be at eight. “What time is it?”

“Two o’clock.” Prompto sits up, crossing his legs as he faces Noctis. “Don’t worry, I told the teach that you weren’t feeling well, and he let me stay behind to take care of you.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem! You looked like you could use the sleep.”

Noctis rubs his face. “Yeah. It’s the Crystal, and...” He waves a hand. “All that royalty stuff.”

“That royalty stuff,” echoes Prompto. He grimaces along with Noctis, nose scrunching up and mouth tilting sideways. It’s meant to be a disgruntled expression, but somehow, Prompto makes it look adorable. “Well, you’re pretty much free from all that today. I don’t think the rest of the class are supposed to come back until ten. You can sleep some more, if you’d like. Or we can go exploring. Or, ah, are you hungry? I can go see if there’s any food I can bring back or we can look up delivery places or—”

“Prom,” Noctis interrupts. “It’s okay. And you don’t... you don’t have to stay with me. You wanted to take pictures around this district, right?”

His friend only shrugs. “It’d be no fun without you.” He seems to realize what he said a moment later, face turning a nice shade of pink. “I—I mean, you—oh, frick—”

Noctis is pretty sure his own face is heating up, too, but he ignores it with all the dignity only an heir to the throne of Lucis can possess. He clears his throat. “Well, then, uh. Do you maybe... want to go for a late lunch with me?”

The smile that Prompto gives him is brighter than any afternoon sun.

 

 

 

 

Morning comes with warmth, almost overwhelmingly so. Noctis blinks his eyes open to a halo of gold, something tickling his nose, and a familiar weight draped across his chest. He blinks again, and tilts his head to look down.

Prompto is sprawled over him, legs wrapped around his middle and hands hooked into his sleep-shirt. His breathing is quiet, and his head moves with the rise and fall of Noctis’ chest. This close, Prompto’s freckles stand out against his pale skin, and Noctis can count each individual eyelash. This close, the slight redness and puffiness lining Prompto’s eyes are clear as day. 

“Prom,” Noctis murmurs. He tries to shift himself from under Prompto’s body without disturbing the other too much. 

But Prompto stirs, and opens one bleary blue eye. He doesn’t even attempt to smile. Noctis watches as he groans and rolls off him, curling up under the covers in a sad lump. 

“Hey,” Noctis says, sitting up. “I’m going to go look for breakfast. Do you... want to sleep some more?”

He doesn’t receive a reply, only Prompto’s head disappearing further into the blanket burrito he’s rolled himself into. Only a tuft of blond hair sticks out at the top. Noctis places a hand on the lump where Prompto’s head is, and keeps it there for a second. Then he pulls away, pulling on a sweater before stepping out of his bedroom.

He’s greeted with the familiar sight of Ignis at the stove, folding an omelette, a finished breakfast plate already steaming on the counter behind him. Noctis runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Hey, Specs,” he says, tugging the door closed behind him. 

“Good morning, Noct,” Ignis says. He plates the omelette, and glances over at Noctis. “Did Prompto stay the night? I saw his shoes on the way in, but I didn’t see him on the couch.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Noctis scratches the back of his neck. Ignis’ voice is even and his expression didn’t change, but it still doesn’t change the fact that Prompto is currently in his bedroom, on his bed. Well. It’s not like Noctis is embarrassed. It’s happened before. Besides, his friendship with Prompto is something he’s more than comfortable with, and Ignis knows this. “He came over last night, was really upset and I didn’t want to leave him alone, so.”

“I see. Is he feeling any better now?”

“I think so. He insisted he’d rather sleep it off than talk about it.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Ignis says drily. He glances thoughtfully at the frying pan in his hands. “Should I set aside an extra piece of bacon for his breakfast later?”

Noctis smiles. “Thanks, Iggy.”

“No need for thanks. Now, let us go over the information for the meeting next week...”

When both of their plates are empty and Ignis is starting on Prompto’s portion, Noctis slips back into the bedroom. The Prompto-lump hasn’t moved. He perches on the edge of the bed and reaches out to pat the spot where Prompto’s head is. 

“Prom? You want breakfast?”

Prompto makes a small noise. He shuffles until his face appears above the blankets. His eyes are barely open, and there’s an uncharacteristic unhappy set to his mouth that Noctis finds he doesn’t like. 

“How about this,” Noctis says, “If you get up and eat something, you can decide what we do for the rest of the day. I can probably even get you into the Citadel if you want to do a photoshoot.”

Prompto squints up at him. “You’ll let me take your picture?”

“I’ll even take selfies with you.”

There’s a pause as Noctis stares back stoically at Prompto, and then Prompto is rolling over and throwing his arms around Noctis’ middle. “I love you, man.”

Noctis sticks a hand into Prompto’s messy blond locks, ruffling them until they stick up every which way. “Love you, too, Prom.”

 

 

 

 

Gladio’s the one who finds them, passed out under the shade in the training grounds. He guffaws for a straight ten minutes at how Noctis’ hair sticks up on one side from being smushed against Prompto’s shoulder and how Noctis’ shirt is damp from his own sweat and Prompto’s drool. They unstick themselves, pulling faces at the unpleasant feeling of dried sweat and sore muscles.

“Glad to see you two working hard,” Gladio says, grinning, “hard enough that you’d crash before you even made it to the locker rooms.”

“Eww, I’m all sticky!” Prompto complains, wiping his chin with the back of one hand while the other pulls his tank top away from his body.

“You stink, too,” Noctis tells him.

“Shut up! It’s not like you’re any better!”

They dissolve into a half-hearted fistfight while Gladio stands over them, amused. He crosses his arms and says, “The Crownsguard trainees are going to be here soon, so I suggest you both hit the showers unless you want to be the source of gossip around the castle for the next three weeks.”

“Ugh,” Noctis grumbles, “but the showers are so far. Gladio, carry me.”

“No way, brat.”

Prompto flops backwards onto the grass. “What if I just melt into a puddle here? Don’t worry about me, just leave me here.”

“Nuh-uh, loser.” Gladio pokes him with his foot. “You’ll kill all the grass with your nasty stink.”

“Nooooct,” Prompto says, slapping a hand weakly against Noctis’ back. “Your Shield is being mean to me!”

Noctis responds by rolling away and lying listlessly against the tree.

Eventually, they make it to the showers, but not before the trainees show up and gawks at the three of them wrestling on the grass, Prompto’s screeching laughter echoing through the grounds and Gladio’s arms straining under both their weights as he attempts to flip them off the ground.

 

 

 

 

Somebody is moving on top of him. Noctis frowns, moving his arms a bit to try and stop the movements from disturbing his sleep further. But then a hand is tapping his cheek none too gently.

“Noct, you gotta let go. I gotta pee.”

Noctis doesn’t bother opening his eyes. Instead, he tightens his hold on Prompto, trapping him against his chest.

“Noooct,” Prompto complains, squirming. It’s highly distracting, but Noctis is determined to win back his sleep. “C’mon, I don’t wanna be arrested for pissing on royalty.”

“You’ll never be arrested,” Noctis mumbles, “not as long as I’m here. I’m the prince,” he adds, hoping that fact alone will end this conversation. 

That does manage to make Prompto pause for a few seconds. Noctis is too groggy to ponder why, but then Prompto is poking him in the sides under his armpits where he’s most ticklish. “That’s sweet, Noct, but you should let me go pee before I embarrass the both of us. I’ll be back quick, I promise.”

“Hurry,” Noctis sighs.

Prompto shimmies off him and dashes towards the bathroom. In the absence of his friend, the couch feels much emptier, much colder. His body throbs like it has for years, all the more prominent now without his best friend’s warmth to keep it at bay. Eyes still closed, Noctis curls up against the back of the couch, trying to grasp the edges of his dream. There were chocobos and moogles and some sort of firework show involved. Strange, but pleasant, for once. He hopes he can show Prompto that sight one day.

He’s just drifted off again when a warm weight squeezes into the space between Noctis and the couch. Noctis blinks an eye open briefly. Flashes of blond hair, a black sweatshirt from Noctis’ closet that hangs off Prompto’s frame despite their similarity in size, and then blue eyes, blue blue blue, so much darker than his own and yet infinitely brighter and full of stars.

If Gladio could read his thoughts right now, it’d fit right into those books he hoards with pride. Noctis is too tired to care.

“Noct?”

Noctis shuts his eyes. There’s something quivering in his chest, but he can’t find the courage to face it. His life has taken a turn for the complicated, and he was never good at being honest with himself, anyway. He does what he does best and sets it aside to deal with later. 

“I’m glad you’re coming along on the road trip,” he says out loud.

He feels Prompto smile into his collarbone. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, buddy.”

They fall back into a comfortable silence, Prompto’s arms winding easily back around Noctis’ waist and Noctis’ hands roaming lazily up and down Prompto’s back. He’s going to miss this, he thinks. He’s not sure why that thought surfaced right then, considering how their ridiculously long road trip starts tomorrow and how they’ll definitely be in each other’s space more often than not, but the thought doesn’t go away. 

Prompto huffs against his shirt, tapping his ribs in a silent,  _ Stop thinking so loudly _ . Noctis laughs, the sound muffled against the couch, and complies.

 

 

 

 

Prompto is still asleep when they pull up into Cid’s garage. He’s slid down his seat, face smushed against the car door, mouth hanging open. Noctis can feel his muscles cramping just from looking at the uncomfortable position.

“Oi, Prom.” He pokes his friend in the ear. “Wake up or you’ll miss your precious Cindy.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but then Prompto is jolting upwards in his seat as expected. He wipes his chin, turning his head from side to side. “Wha? Cin—Where?”

“Waist-deep in a car, I’m guessing.”

“Aw, man, you tricked me.”

“Did not,” Noctis says, nodding at the sign above them. “Ignis and Gladio are already inside talking out the numbers.” 

“Thank the Astrals,” sighs Prompto, stretching out his arms, “we didn’t have to push it all the way back this time.”

Noctis leans back against his seat, face turned upwards. The top is down, and the sun is just beginning to set, painting the sky a pastel mess. He never saw this kind of sunset back in Insomnia. 

Well. He never will, now.

As if sensing the clouds rolling over Noctis’ thoughts, Prompto pops his head over his headrest. “Wanna go see if we can take a few pics before dinner?”

Quietly, Noctis lets go of the grey regrets and pain, watches it float away in his mind’s eye into the orange skies like a balloon at a festival. He returns Prompto’s smile. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

“Noct, Noct~ Wake up, Noct.”

Noctis rolls over in an attempt to block out the ridiculously sunny voice singing his name. He forgets he’s in a sleeping bag, stuck inside a tent with three other guys, and ends up smacking against the tent wall in a very un-princely manner. He groans loudly.

“Nooooct, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”

“We’re out of bacon, actually, so His Highness will just have to deal with toast.”

“Aw, Iggy, now he’ll never want to wake up.”

The familiar sounds of his friends bickering lull Noctis back to sleep again. Until he’s startled awake quite rudely by a hand slapping his cheek repeatedly. He tries to slap it away with no luck.

“Come on, Noct,” Prompto says, patting his cheek again. He leans in close enough that Noctis can feel his warm breath fanning across his face. “Please get up,” he whispers, “I told Gladio that I’d be able to wake you up within five minutes and he bet 500 gil on that. Don’t make me lose 500 gil, Noct.”

Noctis opens one eye. “Are you saying our friendship is only worth 500 gil?”

“No! Well, at this moment, yes.”

Noctis closes his eye. “Betrayal. Complete, utter betrayal. I’m hurt, Prompto.”

“Nooooct!”

Another minute ticks by, but somehow, bones creaking and limbs aching, Noctis manages to stumble out of the tent with a relieved Prompto before the time limit is up. Gladio only shakes his head at them. He makes half an attempt when Ignis comments on his rat’s nest of a bedhead, but for the most part, Noctis sits with his bestest friends in the world, nibbling on golden brown toast and wakes up at his own pace.

 

 

 

 

Prompto is still sleeping when Noctis returns from his walk with Iris. Ignis has probably wandered off into the markets again, and who knows where Gladio has found a lady to chat up. If Noctis wasn’t so certain that Iris could flip him with one hand and that Lestallum was mostly safe, he’d be worried about his retainers leaving him alone like this.

He sits on the bed next to Prompto and pulls out his phone. His friend had offered to take watch last night, so Noctis might as well let him sleep. The boy hasn’t been sleeping well lately. None of them really have, not since Insomnia fell, but still. Noctis glances over at Prompto’s peaceful sleeping face, and feels his lips turn up.

Noctis is on his fourth round of the arena battles in King’s Knight by the time Prompto rolls over and smacks his arm into Noctis’ knee.

Prompto squints at him, eyes blurry and weak without his contacts. “Noct?”

“Rise and shine, loser.”

“You’re a loser,” Prompto yawns. He pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Where are the others? Wait, what time is it?”

“Out. Late.” Noctis puts down his phone. “Are you still tired?”

Prompto shakes his head. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to untangle the knots in his horrible bedhead, but only makes it worse. Noctis tries his best to hold in his laughter. “Did you want to do something?”

“Yeah. You wanna go take some photos?”

“Did you even need to ask?”

The sun is warm against their skin when they finally step out onto the streets. Prompto still looks sleep-mussed enough that Noctis kind of wants to crawl back into bed himself, but he follows his friend through the vibrant streets and listens to Prompto’s chatter, a small smile resting on his lips.

 

 

 

 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the Regalia, but it’s been days since they’ve managed to check into a hotel with an actual bed, and a prince can only go so long squished inside a tent with three grown men. Even if it’s much colder inside the car, at least Noctis can hear his own thoughts again instead of the droning roar of Gladio’s snores. 

Prompto finds him, thankfully early enough that Ignis isn’t out and about, ready to lecture everything under the sun. He raps his knuckles on the window until Noctis reaches over and lets him in. Prompto’s humming under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Prompto replies. His fingers are tapping out a rhythm on his knees, an idle habit. “Woke up because you weren’t beside me. You know, me wandering off is alright, but you wandering off? A whole different matter, man. Like, Ignis freaking out and Gladio uprooting a tree kind of matter.”

“You wandering off is a big deal,” Noctis says, “to me, at least.”

“Aw, buddy, I love you, too. But seriously, you know you can talk to me if anything’s eating at you, right?”

Noctis slides down his seat and closes his eyes. “Everything’s kind of eating at me right now, Prompto.”

“Aha, yeah, that’s true.” Prompto pauses. “You know you don’t have to do this alone, right? Well, I mean, you sort of have to, but that’s just. That’s—I mean, we’re here, too, and we’re always going to be here for you. To the best of our ability. And I know I might not be much—other than being the best shot in this ragtag group, haha—but still. You’re not—you’re not in this alone, Noct.”

They both fall quiet for a bit. Outside the Regalia, light rain starts to fall. Ignis will probably be wondering where they are soon. But here, in the safety of this car, the last thing he has of his father—not the King of Lucis, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, just... his father—with his eyes closed, Noctis can almost believe they’re back in Insomnia, on a night out, just Prompto and him, quiet. Comfortable. Safe.

“Thanks, Prom,” he says finally, and Prompto hums back, watching the rain fall and fall and fall.

 

 

 

 

“Look at him, he’s like a chick that’s finally found his mother.”

“Now, where did Prompto put his camera?”

Noctis rolls his eyes as Gladio and Ignis continue to poke fun at the sight before them. They’d made camp in a haven under the stars, their rented chocobos lounging around them. The weather’s been dry lately, but the nights are still chilly, so the extra warmth is appreciated. Very much so, considering how soundly Prompto is sleeping now.

He’s currently curled up against his chocobo, vest rumpled in a way that Ignis definitely disapproves, expression relaxed instead of the forced cheerful pinch he’s been wearing lately, hands loose and open in his lap. The chocobo behind him is also sleeping contentedly, the slight rise and fall of her breathing moving Prompto along as well.

He looks incredibly cosy, and Noctis is more than tempted to curl up with him.

As it is, Noctis crouches in front of Prompto, and reaches out to poke his cheek. “Prompto. You gotta get up. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Prompto frowns, and snuggles closer to his chocobo. 

“Sure you don't wanna take a picture first?” Noctis hears Gladio snicker behind him. He rolls his eyes.

“Prom, come on.” He lowers his hand to Prompto’s belly, where he’s the most ticklish. Like the royalty he was raised to be, Noctis shows no mercy.

Prompto kicks and misses, hands flailing and disturbing his chocobo as his body shakes with uncontrollable laughter. Noctis can feel a grin spreading on his own face. By now, he’s straddling Prompto, still doing his best to tickle the boy, while the chocobo, offended that her source of warmth is taken away, flaps her way over to the other fluffy birds. Prompto is flat on the floor, head thrown back and exposing the pale line of his throat. Gladio is still sniggering behind them, and Noctis doesn’t need to turn around to know Ignis is shaking his head.

“I give, I give!” Prompto wails, fists pounding weakly against Noctis’ shoulders. “What did I do to deserve such torture?”

“You stole my title as the King of Naps,” Noctis accuses jokingly.

Prompto looks at him, blue eyes watery with laughter-induced tears. “Oh no, how will I ever make you forgive me?”

Noctis is aware they’re leaning way too close to each other, and the way Prompto’s chest is heaving with exertion, the way his cheeks are flushed a healthy, delicious shade of pink. He stares into Prompto’s eyes, and Prompto stares back.

“If you’re done playing theatrics,” Ignis cuts in, “we should get to bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Noctis pushes Prompto back onto the floor. Laughter bubbles out of Prompto as he covers his face with his hands.

“Yes, dad,” they chorus.

 

 

 

 

Something wakes Noctis in the middle of the night. He stares at the blank ceiling for a moment, senses registering the familiar rumble of Gladio’s snoring, the steady rhythm of Ignis’ breathing, and the empty, rapidly cooling space beside him.

Prompto.

He pushes himself onto his elbows in time to see Prompto slip out onto the balcony, arms bare and shoulders hunched in slightly, looking much smaller than he really is.

Noctis waits a beat. Then he’s running a hand down his face and pushing the covers back. He grabs Gladio’s jacket off the chair as an afterthought.

“Hey,” he says, sliding the glass door closed behind him. “Can’t sleep?”

Prompto half-turns towards him, a ghost of a smile on his face. It looks wrong, somehow. Hollow. Vulnerable. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Noctis shakes his head. He places Gladio’s jacket over Prompto’s shoulders and leans against the railing next to his friend. “You keep telling me that I can talk to you about anything, but you know,” Noctis knocks his shoulder against Prompto’s, “you can do the same.”

“I know.” Prompto tugs the jacket closer by the collar. He’s almost completely dwarfed by Gladio’s jacket, but at least he doesn’t look cold anymore. “Hey, Noct. Do you think... we can really do this?”

“By ‘do this’ you mean... take back Insomnia? Defeat Ardyn?”

“I guess. I just...” Prompto frowns down at his hands, where he’s fiddling with the ever-present wristband. “We’ve been through a lot, you know?  _ You’ve _ been through a lot. What with Insomnia falling, and finding the Royal Arms and the Astrals and—and the entire shitstorm that’s Altissia, I mean, just when we finally met up with Luna and now—now she’s gone missing again and Ardyn’s still taunting you and—and Iggy’s eyes, it’s just...”

“A lot,” Noctis says quietly. Prompto nods. He sighs. “To be honest, Prom, I really don’t know. I guess the Astrals have a plan for us.”

Prompto scowls. “Well, their plans sure suck so far.” 

“Don’t let them hear you say that.”

They’re quiet for a while, watching the waves roll gently in the distance. A pretense for tranquility, given the awful events that occurred barely three days ago. Noctis can still hear Leviathan’s screams, can still see the stricken look on Luna’s face as she’s swept away by the ocean, not a second after she pressed the Ring of Lucii into his hands. He still can’t look Ignis in the face, not that the Advisor can see his liege’s cowardice now, anyway.

“Noct,” Prompto says, and the gravity in his voice makes Noctis turn towards him. There’s no trace of a smile on his face. Even his freckles look somber. Noctis is half-afraid to hear what he has to say.

“Noct,” Prompto says, and he holds Noctis’ gaze. “No matter what happens, know that I’m always on your side. Always, okay?”

Noctis blinks. “Okay...?”

“Don’t forget that.” 

“Prompto—?”

“We should get some sleep.” Prompto finally lets go of his right wrist, offering Noctis an echo of his usual smile. 

Noctis doesn’t like the fragileness in Prompto’s eyes, but he knows Prompto will only flee if he continues to push. His friend, for all his loudness and mood-making, is someone who keeps his personal thoughts and worries close to his chest. Noctis breathes out, and nods.

“Let’s go to bed, Prom.”

 

 

 

 

The safe room they’ve barricaded themselves in is small, dim, enough so that even Noctis feels claustrophobic. But Prompto doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t said much since they found him, but then again, he hasn’t said much since Altissia. Noctis understands.

It feels like they’ve just managed to convince Prompto to fall asleep when he’s bolting upright and screaming—except the screams don’t come out properly and they die, half-strangled in his throat. Noctis is already there beside him, reaching for his hands to remind him that he’s here, he’s real, he’s alive. 

“Prompto,” he says softly. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” It’s a lie, but it’s the best he can do right now.

There are tears leaking down Prompto’s cheeks, but neither of them pay any heed as Prompto dives forwards into Noctis’ arms. He buries his face against Noctis’ shoulder, hands clenched around fistfuls of black shirt, chest heaving. Noctis holds him close, a hand resting steady on the back of his head, feeling Prompto’s every tremble in his very bones. He glances over Prompto’s head to meet Gladio and Ignis’ concerned gaze. He tilts his head slight, and they nod back, settling into their bunks again in an attempt to sleep.

“Hey,” Noctis says, “you wanna talk about it?”

Predictably, Prompto shakes his head. He pulls back a bit, wipes a hand across his eyes. His skin is tinged red, eyes downcast. “I just,” he says, so quietly Noctis has to lean in, “I just want everything to stop. This isn’t what I signed up for, and I know I sound like a coward but I  _ am _ , all I wanted was to support you and be there for you but I don’t know if I can, I don’t know what the hell I’m good for—”

“Prompto.” Carefully, Noctis lifts his hand to cup Prompto’s cheek. “You’re good enough for me, remember? I’m really glad you came along with us. I only regret that you had to go through... all this.”

“I want to go home,” Prompto sobs, tears falling again, and Noctis can feel his own eyes welling up. “I want to wake up and have all this be a dream.”

“I know, Prom. I know.”

Noctis doesn’t know how long he holds him, but eventually Prompto’s shaking subsides, and they just sit clinging to each other. Both of their eyes are red and puffy now. Noctis waits for Prompto to gather himself.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto starts, and when Noctis goes to interrupt, he shakes his head. “No, I am sorry, because I’m your sworn Crownsguard, Noct, it’s—what does Ignis say— _ unsightly _ to admit those things. Even if they are true.”

“I share the same sentiments,” Noctis admits.

Prompto’s mouth quirks up. “This turned out to be one hell of a road trip, yeah?”

“Emphasis on hell.”

They share a small laugh, but it dies quickly. Prompto tilts his head until he’s leaning on Noctis’ shoulder. Noctis takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Prom. For—for pushing you off the train, and, and saying those things—”

Prompto hums. “It’s okay. Or, not  _ okay _ , but. I get it. Ardyn played a horrible trick on us. But I know you. I know you’d never... Even if I was. If I was.” Prompto’s hand strays to his right wrist. “Noct, I...”

“It’s okay,” Noctis echoes. He reaches over to cover Prompto’s hands with his own. “You can tell us in the morning.”

“Thanks, Noct.” Prompto is quiet for a while until Noctis thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then, in a whisper, he says, “Luna’s here.”

“... What?”

“Ardyn mentioned it, when he was, when he was... I don’t—I don’t think he’s hurt her, but she’s here. I think... the Crystal...” Prompto trails off, and when he doesn’t speak again, Noctis realizes he really has fallen asleep.

Noctis has many questions, but as he watches Prompto’s exhausted sleeping face, he decides to save it for another day. He leans back against the hard metal wall, and prays.

 

 

 

 

Noctis wakes to a hand holding his, tight enough that all he registers at first is warmth. He opens his eyes.

Prompto lies in front of him, still asleep, but there’s a furrow in his brow and for once his mouth isn’t open and drooling. Noctis stares some more. Something’s different. The line of Prompto’s jaw is more defined, sharper, more mature. There’s a new scar above his left eyebrow, and his freckles have decreased. His nose looks crooked like it hasn’t before. It’s undeniably Prompto, but at the same time, this boy—no, this man—before him is different.

The hand holding his squeezes, and Noctis watches as Prompto wakes. The blue eyes take a few seconds to focus, but when they do, Noctis suddenly finds it difficult to breathe.

He hasn’t thought of home in a long time, but all of a sudden, he feels like he’s returned from a long, long stay away.

“Prompto,” he breathes, and then he’s reaching out, touching the pale freckled skin, scattered with new scars he wasn’t there to witness. “What, how—?”

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto says, smiling at him softly. “Welcome back.”

They sit up after a few minutes of just holding each other, breathing together. Noctis is reluctant to let go, so Prompto sits next to him on the narrow caravan bed, knees and shoulders pressed together. Noctis has to push his bangs behind his ears to see. They’ve grown long without him noticing.

It seems like many things have grown without him noticing.

“We found you two days ago,” Prompto tells him. “Talcott was making the rounds from Lestallum, and found you and Luna by Galdin Quay. Or what used to be Galdin Quay, anyway.”

“Luna?” Noctis recalls the scent of sylleblossoms and a gentleness so familiar and so feather-light it aches. She was there. Flashes of pure white amongst the swirling black and painful tug of the Crystal and the haunting echoes of the Astrals’ voices. She was there.

“Yeah. She managed to drag you both past the Tonberries somehow. She’s safe, just a bit scratched up, and apparently in better shape than you, because she was up and about after a night’s rest.” Prompto gives a small laugh that doesn’t sound humorous at all. “Well, there’s only been night for a long time now.”

“How long?”

Prompto looks at him carefully. His voice is painfully soft when he answers. “You’ve been gone for five years, Noct.”

“Five...?”

“When we went after Ardyn that day, in Zegnautus Keep? We found the Crystal. And Luna, but she was already in there. You told us to stay back but... but you didn’t come back. A-Ardyn, he said—he said it’s all part of your destiny. And he told us how he was—he was—”

“Lucis Caelum,” Noctis says, the words like a curse, heavy on his tongue. He closes his eyes. “I know. The Crystal told me.”

“Yeah, so that was a bummer. And when we came out, daylight was gone. It’s been night ever since.”

Noctis struggles to keep his breathing steady. It’s all coming back to him now. His time in the Crystal was a mess, but he remembers his conversation with the Six. And Luna’s steady presence, allowing him to remember a world waiting for him to come back. His duty to come back. His fate to rid the world of the Starscourge. It doesn’t make it any easier.

He clears his throat. “You’ve waited all this time?”

Prompto shrugs. “That’s all we could do, you know? No pressure or anything,” he tries to joke, but neither of them crack a smile. “It’s been hard, but we had to believe in something. Most survivors took up refuge in Lestallum—Iris is one of the head hunters there now, you know? Gladio’s so proud—but. We felt like we had to keep coming back to Hammerhead. Just in case you came back.  _ When  _ you came back. Because you’re our King, you know? We’d follow you to the ends of Eos.”

Noctis knows. And he hates it just as much as he relied on the thought all this time.

“Besides,” Prompto says, trying to sound upbeat, “Cindy refused to close up shop. Somebody’s gotta stay to keep the daemons at bay, right?”

“Gladio and Ignis, too...?”

“Oh, uh, not really. We decided to split up a while back, to help the other hunters, you know? Ignis is in high demand in Lestallum, what with his knowledge in running a kingdom, and Gladio’s still a beast as usual. I’m... I usually go about it alone, but it’s fine. They do drop by and visit sometimes, so it’s. It’s fine.” Prompto grows quiet. “I guess it’s just been. Hard. When we’re all together, I mean. Because it’s just all the more obvious that you were... gone.”

Noctis squeezes Prompto’s hand. “Sorry for coming late to the party,” he says, tone light, and Prompto flashes a smile. It’s familiar, yet different. There’s a lump in Noctis’ throat, and something twinges painfully above his hollow stomach.

Prompto allows them another minute of remapping each other’s presence before he stands, tugging Noctis along. Gladio and Ignis and Luna are outside. His kingdom, or what’s left of it, is still waiting for him. 

Noctis takes a deep breath, straightens his back, and follows.

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t expect to wake up this time. 

But he does, and he wakes to Prompto leaning over him, tears in his eyes, sunlight casting a healthy glow against his dirty face.

Sunlight...?

“Noct,” Prompto is saying, trembling hands on his face and touching him so gently, so tenderly. “Noct, Noct, you did it. It’s done. It’s over. You did it, Noct, you did it!”

Noctis sits up on his father’s throne, no,  _ his _ throne now, and he remembers—the bleak emptiness of the throne room and the prone forms of his friends on the broken marble floor, how Ardyn’s last scream almost sounds like relieved laughter, the relentless stares of the Astrals teetering on the edges of approval and sorrow, the last image of his father standing before him with a smile on his face, telling him to “keep walking tall, my son, you’re almost there,” and darkness like endless night but stars, small and millions and millions of stars until he doesn’t feel all that alone anymore.

Slowly, he turns to his right, and through the broken wall of the throne room, he sees the most beautiful sunrise he’s ever laid eyes on.

“The Accursed is no more,” Luna says. She’s standing on the uneven steps, supporting Gladio, who has blood running down his face, but they’re both grinning up at him. “You brought back the light, Noctis.”

“A true King,” Ignis comments. His face is turned towards the sun, expression weary but content as he allows the much-missed warmth to wash over him. “It’s finally over.”

Noctis turns back to Prompto, whose tears have started streaming down his face. It’s been so long since he’s seen Prompto’s face reflected by sunlight, the soft flush of his bright disposition, the way his freckles look like constellations come out in daytime. Noctis can feel his own face start to crumble, an almost hysterical sob escaping his lips. Prompto holds out his hands, and Noctis takes them.

He doesn’t let go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_epilogue:_ **

Something warm and distinctly wet is tickling his face. Noctis frowns, pushing away the offending nose.

“Stop, Umbra,” he mutters, pulling up the covers, “bad dog.”

He has a few more minutes of peaceful sleep before a sudden weight jumps onto the bed. He lets out a muffled  _ oomph! _ as his breath is knocked out of him.

“Nooooct! Time to get up!” Prompto sings, tugging the covers from Noctis’ grip. “We’re meeting Luna for brunch today, before she has to return to Tenebrae, remember?”

“But I’m sleepy,” Noctis says. He tries to pull the covers back, but Prompto has a strong grip. He sighs, glaring groggily up at the sunny smile above him.

“You’re always sleepy, Noct. Come on, or else Gladio will come in here and manhandle you out of bed, King or not.”

Noctis groans. “Why are mornings a thing?”

“Dude, you’re the one who brought them back.”

They look at each other, before bursting out into laughter. Prompto falls over on the bed, head tipping onto Noctis’ chest. It’s familiar, this moment, waking up to Prompto and sunshine. If Noctis closes his eyes, he can recall mornings like this, years and years ago, when they were both still too young and naive and still growing into their skin. Sometimes he misses those days. But Noctis will open his eyes, and see the sun rise above the skyline of a new Insomnia, born out of the ashes and blood and tears of a destiny he tore apart and redefined, and he knows he can never go back. 

But here is Umbra, huffing against his legs, and Luna, waiting patiently for him with Pyrna, golden hair glowing under sunlight. And here is Gladio, still doing his duty as the King’s Shield, now the proud older brother of the most famous hunter in town and bearing a glinting ring on his fourth finger. And here is Ignis, probably up since before the sun and working through a list longer than Noctis’ entire lineage, steps even and unfaltering because he was part of the efforts that rebuilt this castle, this city. And here is Prompto, faded scars and familiar freckles, warm against his side. 

“Come on, Noct,” Prompto says, smiling, “you have plenty more mornings to sleep in.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, smiling back, “I do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> i really like prompto's freckles ok............. i really like prompto in general,,
> 
> and luna. luna is too good and deserves so much more screentime, this is but a humble offering, i love her so much, too..........
> 
> as always, come cry with me about these chocobros and luna @puddingcatbae on tumblr and twitter


End file.
